


It's not going to be easy

by Drakklett



Category: Original stories
Genre: Other, Own-Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakklett/pseuds/Drakklett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fictional write up I did in class (for I had nothing to do), featuring a friend and I's characters. Edmund is mine, Steffany is hers, Stella is ours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not going to be easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Josee Robertson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Josee+Robertson).



At least once in every soul’s lifetime, they are faced with a highly personal choice – of which, can result in a state of depression, unpreparedness. In some cases, certain souls never manage to fulfill this personal goal, and they spend the rest of their dear lives in vain.  
Edmund, as it was, had been confronted by said choice. He was nose to nose with it, staring right in to its cold, lifeless eyes. The pressure had been getting to him lately. What would he do with these tags that hung limp over his strong shoulders? Though his shoulders might have been strong, he felt no stronger than that of a small kitten. In this case, the symptom was twofold.  
When Edmund was no more than three feet high, he and his grandfather shared a bond that stretched the boundaries of friendship. He idolized his elder; as did his grandfather admire him. In time, however, age forced him to succumb to memory loss, and soon, death. But on his death bed, he had given Edmund his most trusted treasure; his dog tags. For years, he kept these rusty tags close to his heart, never removing them. Not even once.  
But the decision struck him on his 34th birthday, like a bullet being fired from a steam engine. Did this gift mean something? Nobly, his grandfather was a Nazi hunter. Back in his day, he was known as the respected Lieutenant Frey. Edmund admired no one else but he.  
But was he destined to do the same? Of course, Nazis were not currently trying to dominate the world, to his knowledge. However, there was a war going on in Afghanistan. If Canada couldn’t protect the residents, they’d all get shot down like dogs.  
He felt it was his destiny.

There, his grandfather’s dog tags sat limply, upon the wooden floor. Edmund, with his legs crossed, was perched right in front of them, as he basked in a warm, gentle sun beam that slithered through the blinds far left to him. The choice was mind rattling. Stella, his young little tyke that he loved with all of his heart, was only three. Steffany would be heart broken if he left to war, what with the risk of being killed on sight.  
But he felt as though it was his calling. He felt he had to. It was mandatory.  
Even so, he felt so unprepared. Hardly ready at all.  
He didn’t want to leave his daughter for an entire four years, not being given the right to watch his beautiful baby girl grow up to look as beautiful as her mother does. He wasn’t ready to leave Steffany, nor would he ever be. Just the thought of sleeping with empty arms, not being engulfed in her intoxicating, calming aroma-therapy scent, not being able to run his fingers through her soft, hazelnut hair, made him quiver in misery.  
At once, he made his choice. He would leave his family, but he swore to the god he didn’t believe in that he would return in one piece, to his beloved girls.  
“Eddie?,” a voice as sweet as a bell chimed down the hall. “Eddie . . . “ It was Steffany, holding close to her the sweater Edmund wore when they first met. “You know, you don’t have to go.”  
“I know,” he mumbled, patting the space next to him in the sunbeam, “I know this, love. But if I don’t go, I’ll feel like I betrayed ‘im. I loved my grandfather, an’ I wanna carry on ‘is spirit.”  
“Through war?” A silence filled the room.  
“ . . . Aye.”  
“Edmund, this isn’t right. You know it isn’t right. War is not right. It – Eddie . . . Please, I don’t want to get a letter telling me you . . . You were shot.”  
“I won’t get shot.”  
“You don’t know that!”  
“Maybe I don’t, but I sure as ‘ell don’t plan on dyin’ now. So . . . So don’t worry about me, alright?”  
“You can’t tell me not to worry about the man I’ve been in love with for more than fourteen years now.”  
With this, Edmund couldn’t help but to smile a little. Scooping up his grandfather’s WWII tags, he stood up, holding Steffany’s hand in his. “I’ll be fine,” he said contently as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Slipping his fingers between and away from hers, he walked in the direction of Stella’s room.

As per the normal, Stella was playing on her Playstation – Spyro the Dragon. Edmund played the older games from 1999 when he was in highschool, thus passing them down to his daughter. He was happy to see her enjoying them as much as he did. “Stella?”  
The little ping of the pause menu echoed, and Stella looked up. “Yeah, daddy?”  
“I have a lil’ gift for you,” he said as he walked towards her, joining her on her bed. “Present? But it’s not mah’ birthday!”  
“Granted, sweetheart, but I still think you should have . . . ,” he had the silver tags hidden behind his back, but as he stalled, he pulled them out and placed them in her small hands. “ . . . These.”  
“Necklace?”  
“Well, kinda. Yes. A very important one. I want you to have it. They were your great grandfather’s. He gave ‘em to me when he . . . passed.”  
“Passed a test? Like my Spelling Test?” Edmund chuckled warmly. “No no, hun. None the less, do you promise to take good care of these while I’m gone?”  
“You’re leaving? Where? When will you come home? Are you ever being home after you’re gone?”  
“Of course, Wiggler.” (Wiggler was the nickname he gave Stella when she was a squirmy little baby.)  
“Da-aaad! I hate that name!”  
“Nyyeeeh!,” he stuck his tongue out, as she did to him right after.  
“Anyways, Wiggles, I’ll let you play your game, okay?”  
“Ahkay! I love you daddy!” Edmund smiled, remorsefully. He wouldn’t hear those words for a very long time – perhaps not ever again. “I love you too, Stella. Don’t ever forget it.”


End file.
